


Turbulence

by syrasynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pilot!Dean, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professor!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrasynn/pseuds/syrasynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a pilot, Cas is one of his passengers. </p>
<p>"Enjoy the rest of your flight, sir. Let us know if there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable."<br/>Dean shot the man a wink before during on his heel and heading back to the cockpit. With any luck, he'd be able to catch the man later, after the flight. Until then, he had a job to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

> Good god, I'm awful at titles. Anyways, this one got away from me. Supposed to be a one-off, but they'll be another chapter because I have zero self-control. 
> 
> It's a bit OOC, because, well, Dean's a friggin' pilot. 
> 
> As always, un-beta'd.

Dean adjusted his jacket, tugging sharply at the fabric to smooth out any creases. He pulled his hat down farther on his brow, winking at his reflection in the mirror. Hearing a snort behind him, he turned to see a pretty young blonde leaning against the doorway.

"This is the men's bathroom, Jo."

Jo responded with a roll of her eyes, sauntering in to stand next to Dean.

"We're all waiting for you, _captain_."

She stressed the last word and reached up to tug his hat back to a respectable position. Dean looked over at his favorite flight attendant, unabashedly admiring her in her uniform. What was the point of being a damn pilot if you couldn't admire the pretty girls in uniforms? And Jo certainly was a pretty thing to look at, which tended to get her attention from plenty of passengers, wanted or not. Dean had to admit, he envied her a bit - Jo got way more tail then he did. He chalked that up to his insane schedule and nearly non-existent interaction with his passengers. All things told, Dean thinks he's got the better end of the deal though. He's never had to carry vomit around in his pocket.  

"Well then, let's not keep them waiting."

Dean and Jo joined the other flight attendants and his co-pilot, Ellen. It was Ellen who had gotten Jo the job as a flight attendant while she decided if she wanted to get her pilot's license and follow in her mother's footsteps with the family business. As they strode through the airport hallways to their terminal, Dean couldn't help the swagger that crept into his stride. This was his favorite part of the whole damn job. Passengers moved out of the way of Dean and his crew. Kids stared at him with unabashed awe, women eyed him with lust (thank you, pilot's uniform) and men nodded at him in respect. It was one hell of a power trip, and Dean soaked it up.

They boarded their plane without issue, and Dean settled in to his pre-flight routine before the boarding started. When it was time for the passengers to start boarding, Dean stood next to Jo and Ellen to greet the masses. The flight was direct to Munich, Germany, and Dean was greeting his passengers with an abundance of enthusiasm, trying to psych himself up for a ten hour shift. First class passengers shuffled in and Dean caught sight of a slight man with messy hair and a trench coat. He seemed to be alone;  there was a family of three in front of him, and a young couple behind him. Dean turned on his most charming smile as the man boarded the plane.

"Good evening, sir. I hope you enjoy your flight."

The man looked at Dean and, woah, that's a pretty set of baby blues, and gave a stilted nod. The man moved on to take his seat and Dean had to admit he was a bit bummed that he didn't even get a smile out of him. He shrugged it off, the guy was probably headed home and didn't speak a lick of English. Dean could see he was wearing a rumpled suit under his trench coat, he was probably only here on business. A slight nudge to his ribs from Jo had him focusing his attention back to the passengers, all charm and smiles again.

When the last passengers finally boarded and Dean's face was sore from all his smiling, he retreated to the cockpit with Ellen, ready to get the show on the road. Take-off and landing were Dean's favorite part of flying - the rest was just monotonous. The plane really flew its damn self. Once they hit cruising altitude, Dean switched it over to auto-pilot and sat back to monitor the console panel. Already his buzz of adrenaline was wearing off, and the crushing boredom was settling in.

"Oh, don't you start that shit already, Winchester. I'm not dealing with another 9 hours of your crabby face."

Dean huffed a laugh and shot a smile at Ellen. She always understood how to pull him out of his little moments of self pity with ruthless snide comments. It was a refreshing change from Sammy's constant worrying over his mental state.  He and Ellen passed the time by swapping stories of their latest jobs and seeing who could give the grossest anecdotes. Halfway through the flight, Jo stopped by with some food and gossip.

"That pretty boy you were eyeing earlier?" Jo commented to Dean, as she handed over a mug of coffee, "Definitely batting for your team."

"Jo, everyone bats for my team." Dean smiled at her, taking a sip of the much welcome  coffee. "What makes you so sure?"

Jo huffed. "I've been flirting with him the whole flight. Nothing. Didn't even take a peak down my shirt when I wiped off the soda I _accidently_ spilled in his lap."

Dean chuckled into his coffee as Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Just 'cause every man don't wanna jump you doesn't mean he's gay, Jo. You've got an inflated ego." Ellen lectured her daughter. Jo responded with a raised eyebrow and a curt "Wonder where that came from" before turning and heading out of the cockpit. Dean maneuvered out of his seat and stretched out, careful not to spill his precious coffee. 

"Mind if stretch my legs?"

Ellen waved him away. "Yeah, I could use a break from your shit anyways."

Dean wisely chose not to respond and simply smiled before extracting himself from the cockpit. He didn't normally leave the cockpit - passengers tended to freak if they saw the pilot anywhere but at the controls - but it was an overnight flight and he figured he wouldn't have to deal with too many inquisitive eyes. Dean pushed back the curtain that separated him from the first class passengers and did a quick scan to assess how many questions he'd have to answer if walked down the aisle a few times to stretch out.

The passengers all looked pretty out of it, the only one awake being mister gorgeous eyes trench coat man.  Dean ambled (as much as one can _amble_ down a narrow airplane aisle) and smirked when he noticed a very obvious soda stain marring the lower part of the guy's shirt. He had to hand it to Jo, she always went after what she wanted whole-heartedly.

"Evening, sir. Enjoying the flight?" Dean asked, fully expecting not to receive an answer in English. Instead, the man locked eyes with him and replied in a rich baritone that shot tingles down Dean's skin.

"Yes. Thank you, Captain."

Dean gave the man an easy smile, and casually leaned against the side of the seat in front of the man. This guy was hot, and Dean was definitely interested.

"What's got you going to Munich, if you don't mind me asking?"

Dean spared a brief wish that he was still wearing his hat - he knew how good he looked in it. With the way this guy was staring at him, blank-faced, Dean started to figure he could use all the help he could get.

"Research. I'm writing a book."

Dean suppressed a roll of his eyes. A writer, really? Just another word for unemployed. Dean could feel his attraction for the man ebbing already. He may be pretty to look at, but if Dean couldn't carry an intelligent conversation with him, he wasn't interested. Jo and Ellen might think of him as a slut (and really, he's not denying that), but he has standards. Even for his fuck buddies. Dean smiles , faking his interest.

"Cool. What's it about?"

"Art. It's a textbook, actually."

Immediately Dean's interest peaked again. He didn't know shit about art, but obviously Dean's first assessment was off if the guy was writing a textbook.

"Oh, nice, very cool. Can't say I'm much into fine art, but sounds interesting."

The man's lips broke open in a small smile, and Dean counted that as a victory. He wracked his brain for something else to say to keep the conversation going, but a hand on his shoulder forced him to turn away.

"Captain. You're needed in the cockpit."

Jo cocked an eyebrow at him, her lips twisted into a small smile. Damn, she was such a cockblock. He nodded to her before turning back to passenger hottie to give his farewells.

"Enjoy the rest of your flight, sir. Let us know if there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable."

Dean shot the man a wink before during on his heel and heading back to the cockpit. With any luck, he'd be able to catch the man later, after the flight. Until then, he had a job to do.

 

***

Dean pushed his way out of the airport, bumping shoulders unapologetically on the way. His post-flight check took longer than he was expecting, and he was eager to get outside and to his hotel.  He wanted a shower and a nap, and then he fully intended to use his time in Munich to squeeze in some sightseeing. One of the more exciting perks to being a pilot was getting to visit places all over the world, though usually he was never anywhere long enough to actually enjoy it. He actually had three days before his next shift took him back to America and he was set on enjoying the time fully. If only he had been able to catch that passenger's name or number...

As Dean finally got to the curb where people where milling around, waiting on family or a taxi to pick them up, he spotted a familiar figure in a trench coat. Dean could hardly believe his luck. He jogged over, his small black suitcase rolling noisily behind him.

"Hey! Hey, uh....you!"

Dean cringed internally, regretting not asking for the man's name. So not smooth. Still, it served it's purpose. The man turned around, recognition and confusion washing over his face as Dean came to a stop in front of him. The man had his hand on the door of a taxi, and Dean saw that as an invitation to push his luck.

"Captain."

"It's Dean. Just Dean. Mind if we share a cab?  It's uh, a real pain to catch one."

Dean grimaced, hoping the man didn't notice that Dean hadn't actually been trying to catch a cab and that he didn't come off as a complete moron. He briefly touched the rim of his hat in a subconscious gesture. The man nodded, pulling open the door and climbing inside. Dean quickly loaded up his suitcase in the trunk (noting that the man's was quite larger than his own), before sliding in to the backseat.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Castiel."

Castiel turned to the driver and shot off a few sentences in German that Dean had no hope of catching with his rudimentary knowledge of the language.

"So you speak German?"

The taxi pulled out of the airport and headed for the main road. This is the time when Dean would normally be looking out the window, eagerly absorbing the subtle differences between the foreign country and his own. This time he only has eyes for the passenger beside him.

"Yes. My family is from Germany. My sister still lives in Munich."

"Right. So this textbook you're writing..."

Castiel smiles at him, reaching up to tug at the already loose tie around his neck.

"It's an art history textbook. I'm a professor of art history. I'm here to visit the museums and take some pictures. "

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So why come to Munich? Aren't there more impressive museums in Italy for that kind of thing?"

Castiel nodded, conceding the fact. "Yes. But, as I mentioned, I have family here. The museums here are not unimpressive, and the travel stipend I receive from my college only gets me so far."

Dean quickly decided that he liked Castiel. He was a little on the stiff side, and Dean found that most of the rest of the taxi ride was monopolized by conversation about himself. He managed to get more out of Castiel when he prodded about his family and his job, but the man made a show of making himself sound unimportant. Dean found him fascinating all the same. It wasn't until the taxi came to a smooth stop some twenty minutes later that Dean realized he hadn't told the driver where his hotel was.

"Oh, I guess this is you then." Dean rubbed the back of his neck in what he hoped appeared to be a sheepish manner as he frantically searched for a way to ask for Castiel's contact information.

Castiel shimmed a hand into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a worn wallet.

"Yes. You're coming up, aren't you?"

Dean froze, watching as Castiel handed over a wad of bills to the driver before thanking him in German. Castiel turned back to him, with raised eyebrows. Dean felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He felt like he was at the butt end of prank.

"I...what?"

Castiel  locked eyes with him,  and the flush on Dean's neck intensified. This guy's amount of eye contact was borderline creepy.

"You have been flirtatiously pursuing me since the moment I stepped on your airplane. I assumed you were interested in a sexual relationship. I apologize if I misread this situation."

Dean nearly choked. Damn, Castiel was straightforward.

"No, no - you didn't misread."

Castiel smiled again and pushed open the taxi door, not waiting for Dean before retrieving both of their bags from the trunk. Dean - in a bit of a daze - followed him out to the curb. They were standing outside of a row of apartment buildings - or at least, that's what Dean assumed they were. Dean took his suitcase from Castiel and followed the other man into the building and on to a small elevator. Dean held the awkward silence between them, mostly because he had no damn idea what to say. He was used to being the pursuer in his sexual trysts, but he couldn't complain about where this was going. It was all a bit forward, even for Dean. He had expected to at least take the guy out for dinner or something first.

The elevator stopped at the 4th floor and Castiel explained as he lead the way to a door down the narrow hallway.

"It's my sister's place - Anna. She's in Dusseldorf for business for a few days though; we'll be alone."

God, this was weird. Dean was used to hooking up in a hotel, or taking a fling back to his place. Hell, he'd even engaged in a some mild voyeurism in a public bathroom a few times.  But having a guy bring him home was not something he planned on. Especially not after a long shift.  Dean shuffled in after Castiel, once again following his lead and toeing off his shoes by the door.

"Uh, Cas, not to be weird or anything, but can I use your shower first? It was a long flight."

This wasn't getting off to a very good start, as far as Dean could tell. This whole situation just had awkward stamped all over it. Dean did his best to shrug it off. What the hell? Might as well roll with it, and hopefully get a good fuck out of it too. Cas showed him to the bathroom, and Dean rolled in his suitcase behind him.

"Towels are under the sink." Cas told him before shutting the door behind him.

Dean stripped off his clothes while he fiddled with the shower controls, trying to get the temperature right. As he slid under the warm spray of water, he felt the tension slowly ease from his shoulders. Dean lathered up his hair with shampoo extracted from his suitcase and quickly washed out his hair. The warm water was nice, but being in an unfamiliar bathroom in a stranger's house still had him on edge. As he rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair, he heard the bathroom door open softly.

Immediately, Dean's body was pulled taught on high alert.  Suddenly he was bombarded with thoughts of just exactly why going home with strangers was a bad idea. Here he was, fucking _naked_ and wet, and this guy could totally be some kind of axe murderer. What the fuck was he even doing here?

"Cas?"

Dean slid open the frosted shower door a fraction, peering through the crack like he was trying to keep some semblance of goddamn modesty. Of course, his thoughts of modesty (and axe murderers, for that matter) were blown away at the sight of Cas standing naked in front of him. He might have been a nerdy professor, but damn, he was hot. He wasn't as defined as Dean, but slight muscles rippled in the guy's abdomen as walked over, no shame at his nudity. Cas was smiling, clearly enjoying the way Dean's eyes trailed lower along his body, resolutely snapping back up when they reached Cas's half-hard member between his legs.

Cas slid the shower door open enough to step in as Dean took a step back, out of the spray of the showerhead. Cas didn't shy away from dragging his eyes along Dean's naked form, and once again, Dean felt a hot flare of embarrassment. He just wasn't used to being with partners who were so open about what they wanted. It was  disorienting to be with Cas. He was constantly throwing off Dean's expectations. Cas was smiling, and water was flattening his hair to his head and rolling down his cheekbones to glide along his neck.

Dean felt a spike of lust shoot through him at the sight. Fuck, confidence was a bigger turn on for him than he had thought. Cas turned his back on him, closing his eyes and letting the spray of water wash over his upturned face. Dean watched for a split second, eyes locked on the firm ass in front of him, before his body finally caught up. He took a half-step forward and wrapped his hands around Cas's waist, pulling the man's body back slightly to be flush against his. Cas moaned and pushed himself back against Dean's warm body and tilted his head back against Dean's shoulder. Dean wasted no time in ducking his head down to skim his teeth along Cas's neck.

Cas  let out a breathy moan and stretched his neck farther, allowing Dean more access to the tender flesh. Dean latched on and gently began suckling a mark into Cas's skin, unable to stop himself from thrusting his rapidly hardening cock against Cas's lower back. Cas reached back and gripped at Dean's thighs, encouraging the shallow thrusts.

"Dean, touch me."

Dean slid his hands from Cas's waist down his lower abdomen, trailing lightly through the wet patch of coarse hair before reaching his thick cock. With one hand, Dean rubbed lightly at the head of his dick with his palm. Cas sighed, pushing up into the touch. Fuck, that little gasping moan Cas did was hot.

"Don't tease."

Cas scolded him, wrapping his own hand around Dean's and using it to stroke down his length. Dean smothered a groan into Cas's neck and started grinding into his back again. Cas bent forward, leaning his forearms against the tiled wall. The spray of the shower was hitting on Cas's lower back, sliding down to slicken Dean's dick, where it now fit snuggly between his thighs.

"Cas..."

Cas pushed his ass back against Dean more firmly. He turned to look over his shoulder and grinned.

"Come on, Dean. "

Well, fuck. That's an invitation Dean wasn't going to deny. He grabbed at Cas's waist and slid his dick between Cas's thighs, the water slicking his way. He thrust into the tight heat of Cas's thighs, tugging lightly on his waist to bring him back against his body. Cas moaned unabashedly. Dean started thrusting shallowly, his chest  pressed tight against Cas's back, one hand steadying his waist and the other on Cas's dick.  Cas didn't restrain himself, writhing and undulating with Dean's movements.

Dean grunted, his hand sliding along Cas's dick, smeared with pre-come and trickles of water. His hips stuttered, the position uncomfortable, but god, it felt too good to move away.

"Dean, take it, take it."

"Fuck, Cas."

Dean let go of Cas's dick and stood up straighter, moving his grip to Cas's thighs, squeezing them together.  Cas started to stroke himself to the rhythm of Dean's thrusts.  Dean could feel his orgasm rising, the tension pulling his body tight. Damn it, he didn't want to come so soon, but with the needy little moans coming from Cas's mouth, he wasn't sure he could hold off much longer.

Cas was encouraging him, spouting filthy noises, and Dean didn't even care if he was playing it up, Dean loved it.  He started bucking wildly, and his dick caught briefly at Cas's hole. Cas let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a yelp, and suddenly that was all Dean could take. His hand tightened on Cas's waist and he was shooting off between the man's thighs, striping the floor and some of the wall.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...."

Dean couldn't shut out the litany of cuss words that streamed from his mouth as his orgasm overtook him. His whole body shuddered in the aftermath, and he nearly went boneless on top of Cas, who was still tugging desperately on his own cock. Dean pulled himself together, quickly replacing Cas's hand with his own and stroking quickly. His other hand trailed between Cas's cheeks, to lightly trace the puckered hole. Cas gasped, going completely still, and hot liquid poured out over Dean's fist. Dean pumped him all the way through it, the cum slicking his way, until Cas shivered and slumped against the wall.

Dean tugged gently on Cas's shoulder, encouraging him to stand. Cas did, turning to face Dean with a small smile.  Dean grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted a glob onto his hand before lathering it into Cas's hair. Cas sighed and closed his eyes, surrendering to Dean's ministrations. As Dean guided Cas back under the warm spray, he hummed in appreciation.

"That was nice, Dean."

"Yeah, it was."

"Do you need to leave?"

Cas  looked up at him from under wet bangs. Dean would normally assume that this was his date's way of telling him to fuck off, but he didn't think that was the case with Cas. Cas was really just asking a question.

"Nah. I don't really have any plans."

Cas grinned.

"Would you like some?"

Dean smiled back, and pulled Cas in for a kiss - their first. He whispered his reply against Cas's lips.

"I can deal with that."

 

 

 


End file.
